


everything (everything)

by cedarmoons



Series: can't sleep love [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Apprentice, Other, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarmoons/pseuds/cedarmoons
Summary: “Asra,” they start, tongue almost too thick in their mouth, “I want—”“Yes,” Asra says. “Whatever you want—whatever you need. Take it. Take everything.Please.”





	everything (everything)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [circadian_rythm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/circadian_rythm/gifts).



> my half of the fic/art trade with cinn, who is circadian_rhythm on ao3 and @justanartsysideblog at tumblr, and who also has the patience of a saint. her work is amazing, please go check it out!!
> 
> this work is smut of asra and cinn's apprentice, elishiba, who was very fun to write and to figure out! thank you so much, cinn! 💕

Elishiba is still flushed and full from the heat of the day and the dancing at the village when they walk into the succulent house. They spare one last glance outside, where the beast is still drinking from the water they had summoned, and turns to see Asra on the bed. He’d lit a lantern, removed his coat and pashmina scarf, and now sits on the edge of the mattress, his head in his hands. After a moment he drops them and sighs, falling backward and landing with a thump on the bed.

Elishiba joins him, and he smiles at them softly, tucking a hand under his head. But there isn’t any joy in his expression; the purple light that bathes them both only highlights the bags under his eyes. He’s exhausted, clearly, and they’ve known him long enough to know it’s from stress, not lack of sleep.

Though… they hope he _has_ been sleeping, on his journeys. They make sure he gets plenty of rest at the shop.

“What is it?” they ask him.

Asra sighs, sitting up again. Restless energy. They know it well. “I know I told you not to worry, but… those beetles are a sign. I haven’t seen them in years, not since… well. They used to be a real problem in Vesuvia. They’re not of this world.”

Elishiba is quiet for a few moments. Asra drops his gaze to his hands resting on his knees. “So we should go back,” they finally say. “Weren’t they heading toward Vesuvia anyway? We should warn the Countess.”

Asra doesn’t answer. He stares at his hands for a long, long while, until Elishiba decides to break the silence by prompting, “Asra?”

He stands up, and they watch as he moves toward his coat and scarf, both folded neatly and stacked atop each other. “We should,” he says, then makes a frustrated noise as he grabs the scarf and starts yanking it over his head. He doesn’t look at them as he says, “It’s—it’s _cruel,_ having such a short escape. I wish we could stay away longer. I wish—I wish—” He hangs his head, shakes it, mutters a soft curse. “It doesn’t matter. Sometime… sometime we’ll have time.”

“Asra. Hey.”

Elishiba stands as he turns toward them, his mouth curled into a frustrated frown. They reach out, taking his hand, and his harsh expression softens. He sighs, leaning forward, and they are there to steady him, to be there when he rests his forehead on their collarbone. He sighs again, wrapping his arms around them. It reminds them of dancing in the village, each step accented by the chime of their anklet. How eventually Asra, drowsy from food and heat, had wound his arms around them and rested his forehead on their collar and swayed to the rhythm of the village music.

They reach up, threading their fingers through his hair and stroking his head. At their touch, the stiffness melts from his shoulders. Turning their head, their lips brush his temple, and they ignore the thrill that runs from their nape down their body, leaving flutters in their belly.

“Let’s make time now,” they tell him.

Asra pulls away, just slightly, his arms around them and their arms still around him. Close enough to smell the spices on his breath. To feel his heartbeat, picking up to match their own. His eyes are an odd color in the purple light of the lamp—bright and dark all at once.

Beautiful, they’ve always thought. He’s beautiful.

They glance, just once, at his mouth, and it is not even a conscious thought, moving forward to close the distance between the two of them. Asra groans, hands flexing on their hips, moving up their sides to cup over their waist. Elishiba cradles his jaw between their hands, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss. They swallow his soft sound—a sound of want that makes their skin prickle in a rush from scalp to toes—and nip at his lower lip, making him laugh against their mouth.

He breaks the kiss. He looks at them with hooded eyes, pauses a moment, and then kisses them again. This kiss is slower. More deliberate, more exploratory. When they lick his lower lip, his mouth parts, and he moans while they taste him.

When they pull away, Asra leans forward, reddened lips open and eyes closed. He catches himself immediately and laughs, a self-conscious _heh_ puffing against their lips, before his eyes slide open, slow and sultry. His pupils are blown-black and the sight of it hollows out their stomach, filling the emptiness with heat.

Elishiba grabs the collar of his vest and pushes it down his shoulders. He shrugs it off and reaches for them again, pulling them down into another hungry kiss. This one does not last as long, but he kisses them again, again, grabbing one of their hands and dragging it over his chest, his heart, down his side. He turns them, starts walking backward, pulling them along with him. Awkward, stumbling steps, walked by two people more focused on each other than where they’re going.

They break the kiss just to breathe, to say, “Asra—”

It’s not that they’re uncertain. No. They _know_ Asra, even ignoring the amnesia. They know him—they know he is good, and safe. They know he makes them happy. They know he’s beautiful. The thought of having him here is an idea that makes their mouth dry, makes heat sink low, _low_ in their stomach.

“Do you want to?” Asra asks, against their lips, between kisses. He steps back again, away from them, and his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sits down, staring up at them with a look they can only describe as _hunger._ “Eli, d’you—”

“Yeah,” Elishiba says, and he reaches out, pulling them into his lap. They can feel him half-hard between their legs, and they can’t resist moving their hips, pressing down against him. Asra hisses, burying his face against their throat, his fingers spasming on their hips. “Yeah, you?”

“ _Please,_ ” he says, almost a whine, certainly a plea. The sound of it makes their stomach clench, arousal shivering down, rippling over their skin. Elishiba swallows, rocking against him again, harder than before, just to feel him shudder underneath them. He gasps against the hollow of their throat, and they feel the scrape of teeth against their neck, though they don’t know if it’s involuntary or a warning. They know, for certain, that they want him.

They have for a long while now. Even before they’d pushed him against a tree and kissed him, swallowed the desperate sounds he’d made as he clung to them. The sounds they still hear, over and over, in their dreams, leaving them waking flushed and aching.

His hands skim under the hem of their shirt, dip underneath, broad hands smoothing over warm dark skin. Elishiba arches, grinding down against him, and Asra moans, peppering kisses over their throat. They run their fingers through his hair, holding him close, focusing on the pressure of his arousal between their thighs and the tight grasp of his fingers on his body.

They can’t help but wonder—would he be so desperate under them?

Oh, isn’t _that_ an image.

An image that they desperately, suddenly want to make reality.

“Asra,” they start, tongue almost too thick in their mouth, “I want—”

“Yes,” Asra says. “Whatever you want—whatever you need. Take it. Take everything, if you need it, Eli. _Please._ ”

They bite back a curse at that, and swallow instead. His face is flushed red, oddly colored in the purple lantern light, dim and sensual. His hands are warm against their skin, sliding slowly up their sides; they can feel a slight tremble in his fingers as he guides their shirt over their head. They lean down to kiss him, fingers working desperately at the buttons of his loose shirt. Asra wriggles as they push his sleeves down his shoulders, then tosses his shirt to the floor to join Elishiba’s. His fingers hook under the waistband of their pants, and they work together to disrobe each other until they’re both bare in the purple light.

The only thing Asra wears is his aquamarine necklace, darker in the low lamplight. When he moves to pull it over his head, Elishiba stops him and shakes their head. He smiles, and kisses them again, pulling them fully into his lap. He’s hard and warm between their legs, and they _want_ him, can only half-believe that this is really happening.

He reaches down, fingers finding their clit, and they both hiss—Elishiba at the contact, and Asra, at how wet they are. He even breaks the kiss, looking adorably amused, and Elishiba can only laugh and push at his shoulders, until he is on his back and beneath them.

“Don’t look so surprised,” they tell him, half-stifling a smile. Asra grins, biting his lip.

“Can you blame me?” he asks, eyes lidding. “Having the most beautiful magician in the world in my arms…”

Elishiba laughs again, rolling their eyes, and leans down to kiss him. Asra’s hands come up, cradling their face, and when they grind down against him, coating his cock with their slick, he moans, fingers tightening in their hair. Elishiba smiles against his mouth. They could probably take him, right now, but they want to see how far they can push him. They want to see him unraveled, vulnerable, and for their eyes alone.

They lace their fingers with his, guiding them down from their hair and pressing his hands into the mattress beside his head. When they break the kiss, Asra’s back arches, the aquamarine necklace falling into the dip of his clavicle. He grins at Elishiba, eyes lidded and lips red, his fingers squeezing around theirs.

He’s all to themself, just as they want. As they’ve wanted for… too long, really.

“How far do you want to take this?” he asks, biting his lips as his hips press up against them. Elishiba sighs, head tipping back for an instant before they refocus on him.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me, Asra,” Elishiba tells him.

“So, everything,” Asra laughs, and Elishiba grins.

“Yes. Everything. So long as it’s _you._ ”

Asra’s face goes soft and slack, even as his eyes darken, violet in the dimness. They rock against him, and his head tips back, a guttural moan slipping from open lips. Elishiba takes a breath and slowly leans town, their nose brushing over his cheek, their mouth just ghosting a breath away from his.

“You…” he breathes. He tips up his chin, eyes lidding as he silently asks them for a kiss, but Elishiba pulls away, their lips quirking up in a teasing smile. “You mean it?”

“Yes. I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Elishiba admits, unashamed of it. Asra swallows.

“Me, too,” he whispers. His hips lift between their legs, pressing against the warm center of them. It doesn’t seem to be a voluntary reaction—it’s too uncoordinated, more a desperate search for contact than deliberate teasing—but Elishiba rewards him with a kiss all the same.  

They kiss him breathless, until he is panting underneath them, his cock hard between their legs. Grinning down at him, they release his hands, pleased when he automatically lifts his hands to grip the headboard. With a soft sound of amusement, Elishiba taps a finger against his kiss-plumped lower lip, thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. Asra parts his lips, taking their fingertip into his mouth and sucking at it. Elishiba’s eyebrows rise, but they grin down at him anyway, letting his tongue swirl against their fingertip.

“You asked how far I want to take this,” they say, their voice low. Asra shivers, and his cock throbs between their legs. Mouth dry, they lean closer to him, until their noses are almost brushing, Elishiba’s finger still in his mouth. “Did you have any ideas?”

Asra’s eyes dart to the short wooden end table next to the bed. Elishiba smiles, leaning back and resting their hands on his hips, taking him in—all flushed golden skin, limbs splayed over white sheets cast in an indigo overlay, and Asra, Asra, _Asra_. Only a few hours ago, they had been dancing, and Asra had been laughing—as carefree as Elishiba had ever seen him, swept up in the energetic atmosphere of the celebration and the music.

He had been beautiful, then. Now…

“You’re so beautiful, Asra,” Elishiba tells him, their sincerity naked in their voice. Now, he is still beautiful, only in a different way—sensual, and tempting, and stoking the heat gradually building within Elishiba as they grind slowly against him.

Asra gasps, softly, his eyes widening for a minute. Finally, he laughs, a lovely sound that’s weaker and more strangled than normal. “Look who’s talking,” he manages, and Elishiba lifts themselves off of him, making him whine. “Eli, please…”

“I know, I know, be patient,” Elishiba says, mouth quirking up into a grin. They lean over, placing one hand on the mattress for balance as they open the nightstand’s drawer. The contents are sparse—sparse enough that they immediately see what he must’ve been thinking of, when he made that first surreptitious glance.

“ _Asra_ ,” they say, with a slight sound that could almost be a laugh if they weren’t so surprised. Asra squirms beneath them as they reach down and pull out a vial of oil and a wooden cock. When they look at him, he’s blushing from the roots of his hair down to his throat, and his cock throbs between their legs. His hands lower, one curving over their hip and the other gripping their thigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Eli leans back, grinding slow and deliberate against his cock, and Asra’s hands tighten around them, almost bruising. They don’t mind. Let him give them something to remember this night by. With a smile, they cradle the cock in their palms, enjoying how Asra’s eyes catch the purple light, how his lips part to let out a small exhale.

“Do you want me to fuck you with this?” they ask, lowly. Asra whines in answer, a sound that makes their stomach clench and arousal sink straight into their core.

“Whatever you want,” he pants, but the hunger on his face is—unmistakable. A little familiar, too, somehow, but they don’t ever recall seeing him look at them, or _anything_ , really, the way he’s looking at them now. His hands travel up their body, already damp with sweat from the summer heat, and he whispers, “Eli… please.”

“Hmmm.” Elishiba considers the cock, twisting it this way and that in their hands. It’s made of some kind of enamel, or polished stone, and whoever had made it had given an _absurd_ amount of attention to realism. “Where did you even _get_ this?”

“Does it matter?” he asks, almost pleading, his hips lifting to press against them. Elishiba laughs and sets the cock aside in the sheets, leaning over him and bracing themself with their hands on either side of his face. Asra’s mouth opens, his hands roaming over their back before settling at their ass and squeezing. Elishiba laughs, leaning down.

“Maybe for round two,” they purr, pressing a smiling, teasing kiss to his mouth. When he chases them, they pull away, shaking their head and arching an eyebrow. “ _If_ you’re good.”

Asra’s eyes widen, then lid, his mouth curving into a smirk. “How can I be good, then?” he asks, lifting his head, kissing their chin, their jaw. His hands pull them down, grinding himself against their clit, and they gasp, head falling down to rest on his shoulder. Asra hums a laugh against the shell of their ear. “Hm… are you gonna ride me? Sit on my face?”

Oh. Elishiba’s mouth goes dry. Oh, if _that’s_ not an image.

“Why not both?” Elishiba asks. “We’ve got time.”

And with that, before he can do anything, they reach between their legs and take hold of him, their thumb swiping over his head, already leaking. Asra hisses, and Eli pulls back to watch his face as they sink onto him. They’re so wet that they take him easily, feeling nothing but a pleasant stretch, like sore muscles gone too long unused.

It feels—good. Better even than their dreams. The two of them groan in unison, and Asra’s head falls back onto the pillows, exposing a long, purple-tinted throat. It’s too tempting to resist; Elishiba leans down, kissing bruises into his throat, teeth nipping at sensitive skin.

Asra groans, fingers tightening on their hips, where he’s clinging to them like a lifeline. “Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, baring his neck to them. “Fuck, Eli, please—”

Elishiba wants to tease him— _please_ what, _Asra?_ —but all thoughts of teasing had gone out the window when they’re like this, in his lap, his hands on their body, his cock inside them. Instead, they sit back, head tilted toward the ceiling, focusing on how _good_ he feels inside them. They grab his hands, sliding his palms up their body to cup their breasts. Asra thumbs their nipples, and they gasp, back arching into his touch.

“Good?” Asra asks, voice low, and hoarser than they’ve ever heard.

Elishiba opens their eyes and glances down at him, panting. “Good,” they rasp, and when Asra smiles, it feels as bright and warm as sunlight. Slowly, they begin to lift themself up, and then sink down, again and again. Asra whispers encouragements between his moans, his hands cupping their breasts again before returning to their hips to help their rhythm.

The first time they sink down as he thrusts up—the first time the two of them are in sync, together, perfect—Elishiba sees stars behind their eyes. “Oh,” they gasp. “Oh, _shit_ , Asra—”

“Yeah,” Asra pants, “me too, I feel it too—”

His words are cut off with a moan of pleasure that Elishiba feels everywhere, _everywhere_ , like a fire’s been set inside them. They lean forward, back bowing, and brace themself with one hand on his chest. Asra’s eyes roll back as his hips snap up into them, driving the breath from their lungs. Every thrust drags against something inside them, and it feels so good—too good to stop, even when their body shakes and their thighs burn.

“Are you,” Asra starts, and Elishiba looks down at him, swallowing hard.

Before they can answer, before he continues his thought, he pushes himself up into a sitting position, and the shift of him inside them makes them groan. Asra kisses them, open-mouthed and desperate, and it is all they can do to cling to him while they chase their pressure. One hand cradles the back of their head, and the other skirts down their body, between their legs. When his fingers find their clit, they shudder against him, moaning against his mouth.

_“Asra—”_

“I’ve got you,” he says, “I’ve got you, Eli—”

His finger circles their clit, a perfect, delicious pressure that sends a shiver down their spine. The heat coils between their legs, tightening with every stroke, and Elishiba turns their face away to rest their cheek on his shoulder, warm and damp with sweat. They’re shaking, legs trembling around his hips, body shuddering against his with every thrust. He’s panting against their ear, now, and all they can focus on is him, on how he makes them feel.

“Don’t stop,” they plead, “don’t stop— _so_ good—don’t—”

“I won’t, I—I won’t— _promise_ —”

His next stroke on their clit, timed with a perfect thrust, makes Elishiba cry out, their head tilting back. Asra kisses their throat, teeth closing over their skin, and that brief, sharp pain—combined with his fingers, and his cock, and the warmth of pleasure everywhere they touch—is enough to send them over. They cry out again, a sound that’s half-laugh, half-moan, and shudder in his arms as they come, the tension unraveling into blissful relief. Asra buries his face against their throat, moaning, arms wrapping tight-tight-tight around them.

Nothing has ever felt so good, and they want more of it, immediately, even as the tension drains from their limbs and they are left sagging against Asra’s chest, breathing hard. Asra shudders, once, and lifts their hips, fingers flexing. “Close,” he whispers, “you’re not—I can’t— _hah…_ ”

His words are enough to make Elishiba refocus, not on their sudden relaxed fatigue, but on Asra. They lift  off of him, gently pushing at his shoulders until he lies back down on the pillow, his cock hard and leaking between his legs. Elishiba takes him in hand, watching his face, the beauty of his mouth falling open and his eyes rolling back.

“Come for me,” they whisper. “Give me everything, Asra.”

He shudders, whimpering at _everything_. His hands lift to grip the pillow cushioned under his head, and he bucks helpless into their hand. His moans fill the small space of the hut, the only disturbance of the stifling air, better than the music they’d danced to in Nopal.

 _Beautiful_ , Elishiba thinks, swirling their thumb around the underside of his cock, making him cry out and scramble to grip the sheets. _Beautiful_. They almost want to tease him, to make him beg them for his release, until his knuckles blanch and his body shines with sweat. Something tells them he wouldn’t be opposed—the opposite, in fact. A hunch they can’t explain.

But that will come in time. Now, right now, they want to see him undone.

“Eli,” he chokes out.

“Yes,” they reply, voice rasping. “I’m here, Asra. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Asra says, and the sound he makes almost sounds like a sob. “You’re here—you’re—”

He cuts himself off with a choked moan. His back arches, and his hands scramble, desperate, until one finds their free hand. He holds onto them, fingers intertwining, as if he’s afraid what’ll happen if he lets go. Elishiba leans over him, straddling his thighs, and Asra stares at them in the dark, mouth open, eyes half-lidded. He thrusts into their hand, once, twice, and shudders, eyes rolling back into his head. His mouth drops open, but he makes no sound, not until he’s coming with a cry into their hand and all over his chest.

“Everything,” Elishiba soothes, stroking him through it. Asra releases a low, guttural sound, chest heaving even as he nods in agreement. Elishiba keeps touching him until he moans, more pain than pleasure, and squeezes his eyes shut. When they release him, he trembles, turning his head into the pillow.

Elishiba leans forward to kiss the sweat off his temple. “Good,” they tell him, and Asra shivers again, his hands finding their familiar and welcome homes on their body. Elishiba brushes back his forelock from his sweaty brow, and after a moment Asra looks at them again. He watches them, eyes soft and strange, and Elishiba’s chest tightens with an emotion they can’t name. After a moment, the feeling disappears, and Asra smiles.

“We should probably clean up,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t particularly look invested in his suggestion.

“Yeah, probably,” Elishiba replies. “I’ll get some washcloths.”

Asra doesn’t even move as Elishiba climbs off of him and pads toward the washroom, located near the back of the adobe house. They find two washcloths and wet them both with magically warmed water, using one to clean themself between their legs. When they’re done in the washroom, they return to find Asra stretched out on his back, head turned toward them, bathed in the dimming purple light of the lantern. He hums as they straddle him again, and they take care as they clean him. The enamel dick is gone; he must’ve put it away after they left.

“No round two, then?” Elishiba teases.

Asra laughs, then sighs. “Honestly? After the day we’ve had? I’m beat.” He grins, the curve of his mouth turning just a touch wicked. His eyes lower, expression turning sultry as he lifts his hand to cup the back of their thigh. “But tomorrow morning, if you’re still interested…”

Elishiba carefully cleans his lower body, the only sign of their agreement the amused quirk of their lips. “Hmm,” they say, pretending to think, as they get up and put the washcloth in the sink. When they come back, they climb into bed next to him. “You _did_ say something about me sitting on your face, right?”

Asra laughs, wrapping an arm around them and pulling them close. “Absolutely,” he says, his nose skirting a line down their throat. “Meant it, too.”

“Tomorrow, then,” they agree, laughing when his lips brush over ticklish skin. Asra hums, settling over them, resting his head on their shoulder, a touch that gives more security and warmth than four walls ever could. Elishiba extinguishes the purple-flamed lantern with a lazy wave, plunging the two of them into near-darkness. The moonlight streaming through the window makes Asra’s hair blue.

“Elishiba,” Asra murmurs, after a moment of quiet. When Elishiba hums their response, he continues, “Do you really want to go back to Vesuvia?”

Elishiba pauses, staring up at the ceiling. Did they? There wasn’t anything for them in Vesuvia, really. Only Asra. But… the beetles had gone straight toward the city, as far as the two of them could tell. They should warn Nadia, first.

“I think we should,” they finally reply. “If only to tell Nadia about the beetles.”

“Yeah.” Asra pauses. “Okay.”

After another moment of thought, he nods and sighs, resting his ear over their heart. He doesn’t say anything else. Elishiba strokes his hair in silence until he falls asleep, listening to the quiet of the night, feeling the warmth of his body against their own, and thinking how he had looked underneath them, desperate and wanting and beautiful.

 _Everything,_ he’d said. _Take everything._

Elishiba doesn’t doubt that he’d meant it.


End file.
